Broken :Like a Child:
by nemuemu
Summary: Personalities break differently.
1. Chapter 1

**Broken (like a Child)**

"Kakashi-san!" "Kakashi-san!

The grey haired jounin raised his head, eyes travelling across the mission room, his gaze settling on the joy-emanating teacher standing at the entrance.

"Lookit, lookit!"

Kakashi had already noticed the odd piece of metal in Iurka's hands and instead, trained eyes take in the childlike gleam in Iruka's eyes, the swirling, bubbling chakra, uncontrolled, unstable.

But the cyclops chuckles a little as he stands up, gently dislodging the Hokage's paperweight from Iruka's grasp. He'd have to give it back.

"It's very pretty." Eye crinkles into the happy-eye and he rewards the beaming childteacheradult with a smile.

"Let's go home." He'll deal with everything later.

"Ramen?"

"Home."

"Kakashi's a meanie." Iruka pouts, eyes locked onto the distant Ichiraku's, oblivious as Kakashi visibly cringes. Just a minute change in facial expression, since Kakashi's gotta maintain that stoic shinobi crap when all he wants to do is break down.

"Kakashi also has very nice hands." Iruka adds brightly, displaying his own. And he laughs his Iruka-sensei laugh, and Kakashi feels the unpleasant flutter of hope and- "Naruto-kun has nice hands too," a wiggle of his exposed fingers.

The scarecrow's grip around the paperweight tightens, and he barks out a hoarse laugh.

"Thanks," he chokes out, and he falters in step and in speech and says brokenly, "I'm sorry," for no reason at all.

And Iruka really looks at him, or it looks like Iruka really looks at him, and laughs the Iruka-but-not-Iruka laugh and declares, "Kakashi's a nice meanie."


	2. Chapter 2

Kakashi wakes up to another day, disoriented and irritated. He had that dream again. The one Tsunade said would go away.

It's just daylight, where the sun peeks sheepishly from the mass of buildings that surrounded their apartment. A spike in the population growth or something. It was normal, but it felt odd to be around a lot of people. Unfamiliar.

He's just lying in bed, looking at how the light plays across the ceiling. Sometimes he gets this infuriating flash of deja vu, maybe.

_I've seen that before_. Or, _something's going to happen then_. That kind of feeling.

He can almost smell dry leaves, and the moist, husky perfume of earth. Then nothing, and again, maybe traces of fumes, oil, gas. He hears children laughing, maybe he's one of them, and again it subsides into a rich concerto of traffic and chatter. It occurs to him that it was probably silence. The humidity filter's on though, a faint hum against the cascading slivers of noise. Gai'd given it as a gift, taken with thanks since it's always humid. Or too dry. Kakashi can't tell if those are types of sound.

Iruka's snores grow quieter when Kakashi sits up, rustling the white blanket covers. They'd used to be crimson, until Kakashi allowed the old hag to give Iruka his meds. It's been a while since the man had done anything. Not sure if that was a good thing. He'd been so lively before.

The ticking of the clock beats faster now, and the scarecrow doesn't notice the quick rush of anger in his face. Naruto's system had saved him, but it failed the one person he'd consider living for.

Iruka mumbles something under his breath, and Kakashi itches to stay home, take care of him, but there's always going to be work. He's in this state of restlessness now. Probably since he'd solved that problem just moments ago, but he forgot it as quickly as it came. Kakashi couldn't be in two places at once, since he has to work, because without work is to be without Iruka. Something like that.

The grey haired man eyes the clock, the one ticking a song no one else can hear. The president's advisors shouldn't be late, but Kakashi always is. He forgets why. Tsunade'd just chuckle whenever he'd shake his head, slowly, confused. He really doesn't like- 'hates' maybe, when Tsunade acts like she knows everything, that old hag.

There's a soft breath of life next to him, and chocolate stares up into something non-existent. Or the ceiling. Kakashi can't exactly pinpoint where anyone's eyes land. He can't see what they see anymore. He remembers that he could, but it was like the white noise he keeps hearing.

"Am I late?" A hoarse, morning voice struggles through dry lips, and Kakashi shakes his head, forgetting that Iruka won't see him.

"No. It's Saturday." Kakashi says. "It's always Saturday, remember?" It's not a lie. It's always Saturday.

Kakashi catches a thunderous noise of the clock, like always. Senses enhance all the time. Like how he can hear his breath catch when Iruka turns his eyes to look at him despairingly.

"Can't you stay?" He hears whispers, but Iruka's lips haven't moved. And when they do, his blood runs cold.

"Mission?"

Kakashi forces a smile, and lies. "Yea. I'll be coming home real early, though." He pauses and chokes out a, "Love you." _Hate me?_ He doesn't bother looking back at the sleepy figure, gets out of bed, and dresses into a plain white shirt. Black tie, black suit, blank heart. Iruka's out of bed by now, probably making toast. A habit he's started to develop lately.

"Does that require an answer?" Iruka smiles at him from the entrance. The change in ritual makes Kakashi run into the bed frame, and he winces and clamps his mouth shut, an instinct that Tsunade said he'd grow out of.

"It was just a statement, Ru..." Kakashi tries to say teasingly, but Iruka's already peering up at his face. Not that the man was short, but a good inch shorter, like a girl maybe. Slender, muscular, tall, short. Eyes that can see all your secrets. Intimidating, is the gentle Iruka-sensei. Kakashi doesn't notice that he was walking backwards, until his back hits the wall.

"Iru-" He's cut short by hands that's pulling at his tie, lips running kisses up his neck, and then it stops. Kakashi hadn't minded it. It was different, but he was hopeful. Perhaps hope was welcome now, since he'd stopped believing a long time ago. Before the Rebirth, maybe. So he wants to hope for something. Anything. That was why he looks into Iruka's eyes, you know, to catch a glimpse of Iruka's soul.

Might sound a bit strange, but Ibiki, see. He always says that eyes are the windows to your soul. He's right, but Kakashi doesn't know why.

So he looks into Iruka's eyes. They're the same brown, same deep pupil. The sun's in those eyes, turning them golden.

Iruka's lips twist into a smirk. It distorts his face, made his scar all funny. Turning it into something that wasn't Iruka.

"Looking for something?"

_Yes. _"No. Just thinking how much I'll miss you when I'm gone."

It felt weird shooting bull so easily. Lying to his precious person. Tsunade said that Iruka's in role-play. "It's fine playing along," she'd said raggedly, like saying the sentence was a huge burden.

Iruka gives out this tiny little 'che' and Kakashi grins. Felt weird.

He's staring into empty space when Iruka runs to get the door. He hadn't heard it ring, but he knows it's probably Genma, Iruka's caretaker. He hates that guy. There's memories about him. Could call them nightmares maybe, but the falling feeling when Iruka's probably smiling at the guy in the doorway, and him smiling back, with a smoke between his lips. That feeling makes Kakashi want to rip the guy apart.

So he finishes changing, grabbing a virus mask, the ones you use when you're sick. It was just something he did, covering his face. Then he storms out of the room, and into the hallway. Deft fingers check if his scar is covered by a lop of grey, or silver hair. He doesn't remember where he'd got that scar, the jagged line running through his mismatched eye. But you know, there's a face behind its past.

Smiling, laughing eyes. Happy. Looked like what Iruka was supposed to look like.

That Iruka was standing at the doorway, chattering animatedly about mission reports and jutsu scrolls. Genma plays along, rather too well, like he knows what he's talking about, and Kakashi feels unwelcome when he plants himself by Iruka, hands in pockets.

"Hatake." Genma nods politely. It was like a rebellious politeness, since Kakashi thinks it's rather rude of him to talk with his mouth full. Also, hearing that surname. It sends Kakashi into a red space, something that makes his visible eye narrow, and he stabs a hapless Genma in his mind.

"Just Kakashi's fine," Kakashi forces out. And that's when Iruka looks at him, see, with real bright eyes, and lips forming a smile. Like the real Iruka that he'd known before forgetting. It makes him even more aware of Genma now, like that guy shouldn't be seeing Iruka happy like this. He doesn't deserve it. Things like that made Kakashi feel too possessive without real reason. But he still thinks that there _is_ a reason.

So it throws him off like just a few minutes ago. The way Iruka chirps out a cheerful, "Bye." Looked like he was a genin- a kid again. He answers late, since he's numb. Not like how Tsunade would complain how her cheek was numb after visiting the dentist. She had aging teeth, and Kakashi didn't. It was more like a heart-numbing, that he doesn't even want to bash the guy's head in when Iruka slips a hand boyishly into Genma's.

Anyway, Genma nods back at him, and leads Iruka out to his usual places. Ramen stand, a school. Genma'd used to be a schoolteacher, was what his resume stated. Worked at the same place where Iruka'd worked. That's why Tsunade recommended him- said that he'd known Iruka before.

Made him angry again and Kakashi wonders if he's turning into a girl. Like how Sakura would randomly swing from mood to mood. It was the possessiveness maybe. Wanting Iruka. Wanting to lock him up in this home, where no one could see him, and he could see no one but Kakashi. Then maybe he could forget about everything but Kakashi. No more shinobi role-play, no more Genma with his scar-free face, and no more lies.

Kakashi heads toward the subway, too close to people he didn't know. Strangers who had the same face. Same expression, same everything. He hates the subway, but walking would take hours that he didn't have. He senses things too, and it's like a great big hole that isn't filled. He'd asked Iruka, but there's no explanation in 'chakra'. It was nonsensical. Iruka was nonsensical.

_Not nonsense, _Kakashi frowns as the subway screeches to a halt. Nonsense would be the 'chakra' he feels, flittering around people's bodies. Iruka wasn't nonsense because nonsense was 'no sense' and Iruka isn't unexplainable. He was Iruka, and he was Kakashi's Iruka. Definitely not nonsense.

It's the next stop, and it's his. Then he hates how people jostle him again as he walks into yet another crowded area. Suits everywhere, suitcases everywhere. He blends in perfectly.

There's Ibiki over there, at the entrance, and when the scar-face smiles, Kakashi feels pitied. That's why he doesn't say hello or anything while they walk into the toolarge building.

The other man has sixth sense since he always knows when Kakashi would arrive, waiting for him. It's freaky. And annoying. Kakashi hates how people think they know him so well. Like they'd ask him for the time, and then make a boring conversation with him. Like they _know _him. It's annoying.

"Naruto's worried about Iruka too," Ibiki says. They're in the elevator, and Kakashi can pick up that confounded elevator music Naruto picked out. He'd said elevators were boring, "'specially when they had to go to the toppest floor".

Ibiki's normally not talkative, but Kakashi decides to humour him by not interrupting. Until Ibiki continues to say, "It's been almost two weeks already and he's still not-"

There's a heavy thud, and Kakashi realizes he's holding onto the big man's collar. It's not often that Ibiki's taken by surprised and Kakashi would've liked to get a punch in, but he'd seen what the bald guy'd done to someone with a gun. So he lets go real fast since Iruka would be worried if he sees Kakashi with a messed up face.

"Iruka's fine actually," Kakashi doesn't apologize. The damn music was starting to creep into his head. "Iruka saw me out today. Said bye." He's telling half-truths again, but he hates Ibiki right now. The way his one scar on his lip alters his face to make it look like he's always mocking you. Makes everyone want to punch his head in sometimes. Even when he doesn't do anything.

The baldie is silent until the elevator finally dings and that's why he's such a cool bastard. Emotionless, stoic, and so _infuriating._

"Kakashi!" A young- old voice cries out from the conference room. Naruto's wearing that ridiculous costume, the one with a wide-brim hat you'd see in the country. Farmers. "You're late _again_."

"Sorry," Kakashi says. "I had to harvest my eggplants. What did I miss?" He nods at the almost-empty room. People busy. Moving chairs. Rushing to place after place after time.

Naruto blanches, "Sensei- do you even _know_ how wrong that sounds?" He doesn't, honestly, since there's way more sentences that can sound worse. Like getting lost on the road of life. The grey haired man was almost lost in his head again when the boy- man continues, "And in the last meeting. We were just emphasizing the main points today. Old hag wants to fix some people at check-up. That includes you." The kid- grown-up looks at him through serious eyes. Like Ibiki. Mockingly sympathetic.

"Not me. I'm fine." He replies, emotionless. He's realized he can get away with a lot of things if his voice sounds a certain way. Flat, dull, bored. It's doesn't sound right though, with this adultchild, but the student- leader eats it up.

"All right," the fox-grin appears, "That's great." Then there's a twitch in his jaw, grin fading, eyes turning jaded again. They stand like that, at the entrance of a the toolarge room, silent.

"How's Iruka?" Naruto asks, finally. His voice'd cracked at the man's name, but Kakashi's glad he can talk now.

"He's doing better. Still a ninja, but you can wake up from dreams," Kakashi answers, hoping the fox-grin would shine on that face again. Like normal.

Instead, Naruto looks more solemn. Ruining his face with invisible wrinkles. The kid still showed too much emotion, Kakashi thinks, and he's angry because Naruto should be happy that Iruka's doing better. No more crimson on white, nightmares at night, but Naruto just pastes on that fake smile. Eyes still serious, lips stretching too wide, fake, "I'm glad." He says, and rushes out, too fast, cloak twisting into the air.

Kakashi should bring Iruka to visit sometime. He'd be so happy, all bright eyes, a teary reunion. But first Kakashi has to finish up that load of paperwork on his desk.


	3. Chapter 3

The cicadas buzz, hum, drone on tree trunks under the shadow of towering, monstrous cement buildings. It's light out, ever since they left Kakashi's home. Iruka's home. Genma sinks dry teeth into the butt of his unlit cancer-stick, chewing on it, grinding down. He misses the solidity of his senbon. Its security.

He still has one, poison-tipped, hidden away in his room; in his closet. It's there, sitting under piles of old, rotting paper. They used to have writing on it. Now its gone- the writing, he means. Sensei's writing.

A lot happened after they won. The war.

He rips the cigarette out of his mouth, lips stinging a bit from where mildly wet connected with dry. He spits out the stuff in his mouth too, to get rid of that bitter, bitter taste on his tongue. He shifts in his chair and moves his leg from its place under his other leg, the foot buzzing with returning blood. He has two legs. He congratulates himself for noticing.

People died. Too many. Shinobi died. Too little.

Genma takes a lighter from his pocket. More for publicity than anything. Why would there be smoke with no flame, he chuckles quietly, and the burn on his thumb is welcoming when he creates light. It's really pretty.

The system was fucked. He means no offence to that Kid.

Genma smirks a little. He'd forgotten how to smile.

He looks at the clouds, reminding himself of that one guy. That one- with the same hair as Sensei. Yea. Shikamaru. What happened to him?

Kunai meets flesh, bone, muscle, deeper. A boy- too young to be a man- standing on the battlefield, eyes growing colder, tougher, harder. He's dead now.

Genma scoffs, and the lighter's on the ground too. He'd thrown it.

Tanned hands pick it up, and it's returned in an arc. He catches it on reflex and drops it just as suddenly. It's on the ground again.

"Genmaaa-saaan. You can't find meee," Iruka sings teasingly.

He's supposed to be playing hide-and-seek, he remembers. His mouth feels empty, jaw clenching, muscles on his face; constricting.

"You're real good at hiding, 'Ru." Dammit. Trembling hands reach into his pocket again, finding his object of comfort. He's a fucking baby.

Iruka comes over and sits beside him on the bench. It was an old piece of shit from the old Konoha; rusted metal and paling, peeling turquoise paint. The lighter's back in his hands, disappearing, back again. It glints in the sunlight, twirling, flicking flames, snapping, clicking. Shit.

"Need a light?" He laughs, practically alive in it.

Genma almost chews on the butt end of his cig again, needing to. "Naw, don't need it," he smiles.

There's a sudden blast of fire, from Iruka's hands. That wasn't possible. "HAHAHA!" Iruka's eyes are innocent, bordering insane, with fascination. "Lookit, lookit!" Again, something similar to a fire jutsu, the one the Uchihas mastered at the age of four.

If Ibiki knew, Iruka's ass would be put straight into an asylum. Fuck.

"Fire's dangerous, Iruka," he says. He takes his hand, unwillingly comparing them to Iruka's, larger, coarser. They close around Iruka's slender ones, hiding away the lighter, the abnormality.

"Wasn't it pretty? Like fireworks!" Iruka's hands are defeated by interference, and they're dead.

Genma takes the fire-maker, drops it on the ground.

"Yea. Real pretty." He breathes in through the unlit smoke in his mouth, a bitter air filling his lungs so slowly, to the point of suffocation.

"Bombs, y'know? They kill people," starts Iruka. He's serious, teacher mode. His eyes stare through Genma unblinkingly. "Kiba lost his arm, didn't he?"

"Naw, that was Shino. Kiba lost both his legs." Genma brushes dirt from his pants. They're civilian clothes. Jeans. Odd material they had imported a few weeks back. Now they're pretty 'trendy'. Genma thinks they're too restricted.

"HAHAHA!" Iruka's squeal of delight bubbles out again. "I always told him to stop relying on his senses. He's got a weak point below his feet."

"So it was a land mine then?" Genma can't help being caught up in such a conversation. It was too easy to catch insanity.

"Yup," Iruka replies brightly. He links his fingers and stretches out in front of him. The sun soaks into his hair. A bit of collarbone peeks out from the neck of a casual shirt. He looks normal. Pretty, almost.

Genma's hand finds its way into Iruka's, and they intertwine fingers, like they'd used to. Iruka upturns it palm up, tracing blisters, wrinkles, scars. It tingles. He says so.

"Feels kinda itchy, Ru."

Iruka stops tracing, looking in deep concentration. Then he grins and scratches lightly with the tip of his fingernail. "Not itchy, right?"

Genma nods. It doesn't itch. Gentle Iruka-sensei scratches deeper, over ridges and into creases. The assaulting finger stops and the warmth of Iruka's hand draws away.

"It's gonna snooow," the man sings. He's gleeful. They're in the middle of summer.

"Don't snow, please," Genma smiles. Iruka looks at him with defiance.

"I like snow," Iruka pouts. "Nice and warm. Like clouds. On the ground, the trees. Everywhere!" He throws his arms out wide, like he could hug the world, like he was free, from boundaries, cages, norms.

"Yellow snow is bad," Genma reminds him sagely. "'Member you made a yellow snowman?"

Iruka covers his ears, smiling sheepishly. "It's 'cause of that Inuzuka, stupid." A tongue is directed at Genma, a blatant form of 'you are a jerk'. Then, "Kakashi doesn't have dogs anymore."

Kakashi, again. The Copy-nin. The dogs.

"He used to, didn't he? He gave me a puppy once, right?" Iruka looks too insecure for a man his age. A boyish expression. It didn't suit him. "It died," says Iruka in blank realization, too honest to himself. That's when Iruka's eyes grow dead, and Genma has to revive him.

He inhales. Exhales. They breathe together, with Iruka sitting barely a millimetre away, like a corpse. He wonders why a millimetre is called that. A million, a metre. That's what he thinks. Iruka's so close, a millionth of a metre, yet he's a million metres away. Genma's kinda glad he doesn't have to go to the schools they have now. He'd fail at math.

"Found you, 'Ru," he voices raggedly. He chomps down. Dammit.

"AHAHA! You did!" Iruka's sudden rebirth is exuberant. He beams at Genma, like he's just won a frickin' prize. What did he win?

It's growing darker, a deep purple; maroon. "Wanna play again?" He asks.

"Sorry, 'Ruka-sensei. You know I suck at hide-and-seek."

"You're crap at it," Iruka cheerily agrees. Then he looks at a building. At buildings. "Where did those come from?" He admires them from a distance. Genma does too, not of admiration. He's kinda terrified of them. He needs to thank Raidou for renting a house with him. Economy in Konoha wasn't real great these days. Too many people. Raidou makes real awesome food too, so maybe he should do laundry later.

So anyway, Genma looks up at them too thinking of Raidou, and then down at his open hands. There're marks from holding weapons; skin blistering, cracking, hardening. His index finger is disfigured if you look closely, a chunk of it missing. Goddamn Kirigakure fish.

"They came from our hands, remember? We built them."

The war ended. Weeping families, multiple funerals with the bodies they could find and identify. Hundreds- without.

Iruka copies Genma, looking down at his hands like they were the only thing in the world. Then he puts them down into his lap, looking like the perfect picture of sophistication. "You don't suck, Genma," he suddenly says, looking at him with bright eyes. "You just suck in bed."

Genma pulls a face. "At least you remember," he prompts. He wants Iruka to talk more. _Do you really_?

"Yup," Iruka grins, scar crinkling. "And then you couldn't get it up once," He cocks his head to the side, playing with sounds, finding the word. "Erectile dysfunction," he finishes. He laughs after, doubling over, and Genma blushes involuntarily.

"That was _one time_," he growls. He remembers. Genma feels a pang of joy, fear.

Iruka still has a hand clutching his stomach, chortling with an infectious happiness. "And you still went to Shizune to get it looked at." Sadness knots in his gut.

Red, red sky painting the earth, ground with rust. Everyone was screaming, running, shouting, fighting. Poor Shizune.

There's tears in his throat, threatening to choke him. The sky is cloudy, high above the buildings; their presence like stoney guardians. The sun was beginning to be devoured by the horizon, death in vivid Glory Colours. Something Gai would say.

"Hey, where's Gai now?" He asks, curious. Kakashi was Gai's best friend. They'd keep in touch.

"He's a coach at a high school," Iruka replies, intelligently, articulately. Then he laughs, sudden comprehension. "AHA! 'Magine him teaching health to those kids." His expression fades into something rather darkening, sad, despondent. Like a kicked puppy. An abandoned one. "It's always Saturday."

Genma notices Iruka closing in on himself again, posture slumping unnoticeably. "Hey," Genma catches the door swiftly, a bit too urgently.

"Mmm?" The promise of conversation from an unresponsive peaks the man's interest.

Genma reaches to the ground, fingers meeting the smooth surface of stainless steel. "Show me again."

Iruka laughs and complies. Trustful, honest Iruka-Sensei.

The flame sparks, splutters, bursts, dances. He makes it fly, pile up, grow larger, taming the mechanical fire that was contained in a sequence of chemistry, friction, triggered. The mechanism that supposedly had already mastered the fire beast was still dangerous. Like the safety on a gun. Like the cars, zooming past, visible only through sound.

They have streets. A lot of them. Full of too many moving things. Automated things.

"It's pretty," he comments. It's pretty dark out now, and the flames are burning into his eyes, leaving afterimages to its every swirl, its every expansion.

Iruka goes, "Isn't it? You taught me. Didn't I get better?"

He'd forgotten. It was so long ago. "Yea. You improved." His voice was shaky, an earthquake of sound. He coughs, dropping the smoke into the dirt, crushing it under his foot.

"Genmaaaa. Your turn," Iruka's mouth had turned into a little frown. It doesn't suit him. Too boyish. He can't, anyway. He can't do magic anymore. Jutsus were dead now, as well as that IQ200, Shizune, and his senbons.

"Can't, 'Ru. They stole-" Genma doesn't know what to say. Or didn't. He'd wanted to say that they'd stolen it. They'd stolen his identity as they'd done with the rest of the shinobi. Civilians alike. How would you say that?

"They stole our time from us. The enemy. The government." He's rambling. He doesn't know why he'd use the word, 'government' either. He fails damn hard in politics. It's 'cause he doesn't know anything. He hasn't kept in touch with _that_ Group in days, weeks maybe.

"Kakashi doesn't remember anything, y'know? And I gotta eat pills everyd-" He turns suddenly to face Genma earnestly. "Tsunade-Sama, she's old now, yea?" He grins, "Ibiki too. His wrinkles are more..." He frowns, searching for a word, looking away again. There's a wasp flying around the opening of a soda can, lying on the ground. Litter.

Genma stays silent. Ibiki was a sadistic bastard, _was_ anyway. He'd turned colder during the last war, even after what Naruto'd done to him before. Naruto had that effect on everyone. Turned them nicer, warmer. Like artificial flavouring. Like hell's he gonna say that that Kid- Naruto's like sugar.

Iruka too. He stays silent, staring at the ants as the sky grows from a deep purple, to blue. Or black. Genma thinks he might be a little colour blind.

The ants. They're swimming in the liquid that's been spilling out from the garbage bin. It's one sweet concoction of sticky waste from trashed food and drink. And they were drowning.


End file.
